


Recovery

by thekindmagic



Series: Astra Inclinant [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: F/F, Gen, Pre-Relationship, just them meeting really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 18:08:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8855692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekindmagic/pseuds/thekindmagic
Summary: Set shortly after Altissia. Luna winds up rescued by Aranea, despite that not fitting very well into her Oracular plans...(Prologue)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, this pairing kind of occurred to me out of nowhere, and I just wanted to see if I could reasonably get them in the same room.

Luna hasn’t spent much time flying, but her experience with Nyx in Insomnia gives her a reasonable basis to believe she’s aboard some sort of aircraft. There’s a vibration, a sense of momentum and instability. It’s making her dizzy.

“Hey there, sleeping beauty.”

When Luna tries to turn her head, her vision blurs into darkness. She moves to rub her eyes and pain shoots down her side, ebbing away into an icy numbness.

“Don’t get up.”

Luna isn’t sure she could if she wanted to, but being warned against it only makes her want to try harder. She plants her hands flat at her sides and pushes. The pain surges again, leaves her gasping and defeated.

Across the dark room, there’s a laugh - somewhere between mocking and appreciative. “Shit. You have somewhere you need to be?”

Luna doesn’t know who’s asking, whether she’s in the company of a friend or a captor, but there’s only one answer to that question. “Noctis,” she says. Her voice is weak and raspy, unbefitting an Oracle.

It doesn’t seem to bother her companion. “He made it out of Altissia just fine. In better shape than you, anyway.”

Luna shuts her eyes and breathes. Thank the stars. The last thing she remembers is passing the ring to Noctis, him laying limp and fragile in her arms. She’d summoned up all the power she could reach to help him, afraid that it wouldn’t be enough, afraid that she’d die before-

Her hands fly to her side, just below her ribs.

She gets a sympathetic hum. “Yeah. It was touch and go for a while, but your creepy friend says you’ll recover eventually.”

“Gentiana?” Luna swallows, trying to eliminate the gravel from her voice. Gentiana surely wouldn’t leave her with anyone who might hurt her. Not by choice, anyway. “Is she here?”

“Not anymore. She disappeared a while ago.” Fabric rustles against metal, and an imposing figure in full armor moves forward from the shadows. A woman with silver hair, beautiful and familiar…

“Commodore Highwind.”

This is… less than ideal. If Luna is still in Imperial custody, then it’s only a matter of time before she’s face to face with the Chancellor again. She squints in the dim light, trying to make out a door, some means of escape. If they’re in flight, things will be more difficult, but she’d rather face death on her own terms than on the Empire’s.

The Commodore laughs and shakes her head. “Not Commodore, anymore. Just Aranea.”

Luna stiffens when ‘just Aranea’ moves closer.

Aranea holds up her gauntleted hands in an incongruously calming gesture. “Listen, I’ve had my fill of whatever’s going on with the Empire, and especially of that bastard Ardyn. Your brother promised to help get me out if I took you along.”

Damn Ravus for this, for always keeping her in the dark, for loving her too much and not understanding her in the slightest. “He knows I’m here?”

“He’s about the only one who does,” Aranea nods. “Couldn’t risk telling your pretty boy fiancé, not with Ardyn hot on his tail.”

Luna frowns and shakes her head vigorously in protest, ignoring the very real threat that she might throw up. “I must go to Noctis. I must- It is my duty as Oracle.”

Aranea gives her a strange look, one she’s not sure she recognizes. It’s something like the expression her brother wears when she speaks of her fate, but less angry. It’s the sadness from his eyes, and the pride from Gentiana’s smile.

Then it’s gone.

“Okay,” Aranea scoffs, “say I drop you off right this minute. What are you gonna do? Make His Majesty carry you piggyback?”

An unnecessary comment.

…But perhaps a valid one. Luna scowls.

Aranea shrugs. “You’re all out of gods to summon anyway, aren’t you? Rest. Get better. Figure things out after.”

This woman clearly doesn’t _understand_. Luna can’t remember the last time she was around anyone who assumed the Oracle could just _make things up as she went._

Still… Her path as Oracle does seem to have come to a roadblock.

Luna tries one more time to push herself up. Aranea reaches to help, and Luna doesn’t resist; together, they manage to get her at least slightly elevated against her pillows. This is a private bedroom, Luna notes - Imperial craft only reserve private quarters for commanding officers. Strange that Aranea would afford her that courtesy.

“Did my brother make you promise to keep me,” she asks, placing special emphasis on _keep_ , “or merely to rescue me?”

“Rescue job only,” Aranea says brusquely, with a look that says she understands what Luna’s really asking. “The start of a brand new career for me, actually.”

Luna tries to meet her gaze steadily. "Then why am I still here?”

Aranea considers her, as though trying to figure out what she wants to hear. After a moment she seems to give up. “Wouldn’t be much of a rescue if I dumped you unconscious on the side of the road.”

Well, Luna has to concede that point.

“As soon as you can stand up and walk away,” Aranea says, “hey, I’ll let you. Until then, you’ve got sleeping to do, and I’ve got demons to hunt."

Luna gets the distinct impression she’s being extended an invitation. She’s not entirely sure she should accept, but she feels no ill will from Aranea, and she’s still too bleary to come up with an alternative. "Thank you,” she says quietly. Something she probably should have said sooner.

Aranea takes the gratitude in stride, seemingly satisfied. She turns away to leave. “Snacks in the drawer,” she says, waving goodbye over her shoulder. “Bathroom door on the left. I’ll check back later.”

When the door clicks shut behind her, Luna sighs.

It hurts to think, to breathe. She feels more lost than she ever has in her life, on the run and assumed dead once more, with only an ex-Imperial mercenary at her side. She has absolutely no idea what she’s supposed to do next.

This doesn’t feel much like destiny.


End file.
